


truth is a cave to hide in

by AnnCherie



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: (probably not going to be in this but still in universe: marosa camluca kylex), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, High School, Rivals to Lovers, also noah is innocent canon is just racist, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23387104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnCherie/pseuds/AnnCherie
Summary: Liz Ortecho falls in love with Michael Guerin in high school instead
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Liz Ortecho
Comments: 12
Kudos: 56





	1. Liz

It goes like this -- Roswell High is the sort of outdated school that does things like post exam scores publicly. Maybe if her mother didn’t care about her being the smartest kid in class she’d be insecure about the entire school knowing she was smart, but she isn’t. She’s proud of herself. The only outside force that could sour that is the fact that  _ somehow _ , Michael Guerin constantly outscores her.

At first it was just their math classes, which stung but didn’t make her too angry. Math wasn’t her best subject; she had to work at it. Michael must be naturally talented with it. 

Then, he outscores her on a Chemistry exam and she’s in a bad mood for the rest of the day. Rosa laughs at her, Maria gives a sympathetic smile, and Alex shakes his head and tells her it’s just a stupid high school test. Maria agrees, and then the group launch into a mutual rant about standardized testing that makes Liz feel a  _ little _ better. Little _. _ She still glares at him from across the lunchroom table, where he sat with Max and Isobel Evans, and he looks briefly confused before seeming to realize. At that he winks at her and she despises the way it makes her stomach drop. Anger, she tells herself. It’s just anger.

* * *

The next time she checks scores on a math test he comes up from behind her so quickly she doesn’t even realize he was there. Moving so closely beside her that she almost blushes, he makes a big show of finding his score, pointing his finger from the bottom up to the top, where it then stayed above hers. “Ah, right. Glad to know I’m not failing, right Ortecho?”

Completely shocked, both by him talking to her and also by him being a complete ass, she stares at him with her mouth slightly open in offense. He chuckles at the sight and walks off before she has a chance to retort. Rosa would be so disappointed in her.

The amount of studying she does for the next test they share is a little embarrassing. She doesn’t eat lunch, doesn’t leave the library, tells her Papi that she can’t do a shift at the Crashdown until the test is over. He looks a little concerned at her behavior. Even her mom notices, on one of the rare nights she isn’t out, and tells her not to work so hard as books upon books are splayed over one of the restaurant booths post closing. Rosa overhears as she comes down the stairs, and even though she and their mom had fought recently she still laughs and uses the opportunity to out Liz to their mom. “She’s just studying extra hard so she can beat a  _ boy _ .”

“What?” their mom asks, surprise on her face as she turns to Liz, who is currently shooting daggers at Rosa with her glare and planning payback. “I thought you were top of all your classes.”

“I am, Mami,” Liz huffs. “Michael only scores higher on tests, he doesn’t actually get higher grades.” Adding another bitter huff, she mumbles, “He’d have to care to do that.”

“Oh I think he cares,” Rosa inputs, enjoying this far too much. “Cares that he’s getting under your uptight perfectionist skin that he loves to check out when you’re not looking.”

Liz knows she turns a shade of red as she tells her sister, “¡Cállate, Rosa!”

“Do you like this boy?” her mom asks with raised eyebrows. It’s not much of a question with the tone she uses, but Liz still scoffs. “ _ No _ !” at the same time Rosa says, “ _ Yes. _ ”

“I do  _ not _ .” She snaps at Rosa. “He’s scruffy and arrogant and completely apathetic.”

“And you like his ‘stupid’ curly blonde hair and big brown eyes, no?”

“Ugh!” she yells. “ ¡Déjame solo, Rosa! I have to study still, for my  _ future _ .”

The older sister laughs once more and leaves out the door, a little too late for a school night in Liz’s opinion. Her mother frowns at the door as it closes, but turns back to Liz and then sits across from her in the booth. At first she surveys the books, maybe thinking of what she should say, but then she looks up. “Te amo, mi carina. You’re so smart and beautiful and any boy would fall in love with you. Just be careful, yeah? I don’t want you to get hurt or to give up anything.”

“He’s not in love with me,” she argues. 

Her mother smiles and shakes her head. “Maybe not yet.”

“ _ Mom _ . Seriously, you’re being embarrassing.”

“Okay, okay.” She laughs, and goes back upstairs. Liz is almost too happy that she’s staying home that she doesn’t over-analyze what her family seems to think about her and Michael Guerin. A combination of names that should never be together, she stubbornly thinks, and yet they were every time a teacher posted scores or bragged about their students.

* * *

When he outscores her on a Biology exam, her best and favorite subject and the field she wants to get a degree in, she snaps. The entire semester he had only answered questions when forced to, had fallen asleep at his desk more than once, and acted like their lab time was the most boring thing he had to endure. Alex tries to stop her from storming off at the sight of the grades, hand going to her arm, but she breaks free and searches until she finds him half lying on his truck in the school parking lot.

“What the  _ hell _ , Michael?” she snaps loudly enough that he sits up. All he does is raise his hands defensively, clearly caught off guard as he asks, “Can I help you, Ortecho? Don’t remember kicking your dog or anything.”

“Why do you act like you don’t care about anything when you’re so smart?” she yells, only further incensed by his attitude. “How in the hell do you not care when you’re so intelligent you can get out of this stupid small town and change the world?”

Looking rather lost as he searches her eyes, he shrugs. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly starting ahead in life. Smart is all I got.”

“Ay, don’t give me that bullshit.” She’s glaring, on the verge of shaking, and continues to rant. “You’re talking to me, someone who deals with racism and sexism daily. And yeah, maybe I have a good family but my parents sure didn’t start ahead in life when they moved here from Mexico. You can do  _ more _ .”

“Maybe I don’t want to change this world!” he huffs. “Ever thought about that?”

“This world is the only one you have.” She snaps, and his jaw tightens in a way she didn’t expect. Eyelashes flicker, and he hops off his truck and steps closer to her. If she wasn’t so angry she would have stepped back a few feet, but right now it’s satisfying to glare up at him even if it is annoying she’s shorter. 

Focusing on her even further, which she doesn’t particularly want to like, he poses an exasperated question. “Why do you care what I do, Ortecho? You really just mad I beat you on tests? You’re the one with the better grades for your college transcript.”

“I _don’t_ care.” She lies, forcing herself to sound more believable. Biting her cheek doesn’t help.

“Kinda seems like you do,” he retorts, gesturing at her angry posture.

She unfolds her arms. “I just wanted to tell you that for someone so smart you sure act ridiculously stupid.”

That makes him smile, but before she can say something to change it, he moves forward and kisses her. It’s only a brief meeting of lips before she pushes him off her. He looks like he’s going to backpedal and she doesn’t want him to, not really, so now that the surprise is gone she kisses him back.

When they pull back, he’s grinning and she’s in a weird place of wanting to curse herself and pout but still smiling back at him. Looking away so she can try and control her smile that’s responding to his smirk, she says, “You still act stupid.”

“You’re the one who tried to convince yourself this was just about grades,” he retorts.

She can’t really argue that.

  
  


* * *

They fall into a rhythm in a way that surprises her. At first she thought it would be just a one time kiss or maybe even kissing randomly with no feelings (even if she isn’t that kind of person). Instead they don’t talk about it; but he meets her in the morning when she arrives at school, does a small sarcastic back and forth with Rosa until her sister leaves to find Maria, and then they talk about their current coursework before going to class. At lunch they don’t change where they sit, not at first. They glance at each other more often, a point which her friends make sure to tease Liz mercilessly about, but nothing else. After school she retreats to the library and he finds her, sitting down across from her and relaxing into engineering books well above high school level as she studies. Then they part ways with a goodbye, no kiss or hug shared. She’s not sure how to describe it, but it’s an entire two weeks of it before she breaks.

“What are we?” she desperately asks him in the middle of the library after school. People glance over at them and she feels her face heat. Eyebrows raised after he glares the other students down for staring at them, he sighs, puts his current book in his backpack, and drags her out of the library by her hand.

They stop in the hallway just outside of it, but the school halls are long now empty. “What do you think we are?”

“Don’t avoid the question!” she snaps at him, offended, but he huffs and dramatically shrugs his arms. “Sorry, thought labels were supposed to be a mutual thing, not just a guy deciding.”

Glaring fiercely at him, she says, “Don’t throw feminism in my face either.”

He groans, rolls his eyes, but finally looks back at her with a more vulnerable look. “Liz, I don’t want to answer that if we’re not on the same page. I’ve had way too many people leave me for less.”

Softening, she nods. “I’m not just going to leave you, Michael.”

He looks away, tense.

“I like spending time with you. I like that you understand what I’m talking about when I go off on rants about medical biology research papers I’ve read that day. I like that you can get along with Rosa, even if you two like to joke about hating each other. I like that we don’t keep each other from our friends or studying.”

“So we’re just friends,” he says with bravado, looking rather good at hiding the disappointment Liz could see through. “Good to know.”

“I didn’t say that,” she tells him. “I’m just not sure what to think when you kissed me once and then haven’t kissed me since, let alone held my hand.”

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” Michael asks.

“Not the point.”

“Kinda the point.” He’s smiling more now, comfortable in the blanket of teasing her.

She rolls her eyes, but the smile is infectious like always. “I’m not-- I’m not good with people, not like Maria or Rosa. You have to tell me if you want something more or I’m just going to get crazier and insecure and I’m not that person, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, and kisses her. 

This time, with the weeks of buildup that she had thought would only apply to their first kiss, it’s even better. Fervent, sweet, the kind she stays up thinking about even after when she’s in bed at night.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Of course she’s the one who shares her life first. When he first comes to the Crashdown it’s on a weekend when it’s busy enough that her Papi can’t immediately interrupt them. Rosa is here, working a shift, and she raises her eyebrows when she spots him. Liz gives her a warning glance, but her sister still bounds over with an already full tray meant for waiting customers.

“Ooh, you actually brought your boyfriend home, Liz? Brave of you to do when Papi is wielding kitchen knives.”

“Love the alien ears,” Michael tells her sarcastically, a smirk on his face that Liz can’t help but smile at even if she does roll her eyes. “They really accentuate your personality.”

“You mean how I’m out of this world?” Rosa shoots back. “Thank you, Guerin, you’re so sweet.”

One of the regulars calls out her name to get their food and Rosa leaves them, Michael looking a little lost in thought. Liz frowns. “Is this too much? We can go somewhere else, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m good,” he says, coming back to reality. With an odd smile, he jokes. “Don’t you think the aliens would find this place a little racist?”

Unexpecting, she laughs. “Wouldn’t it be speciesist?”

He shrugs, and she can’t help but tease, “Michael Guerin, do you believe in aliens? Has Roswell gotten to your head?”

“Don’t tell me you really think we’re the only life forms in every galaxy known,” he responds, giving her a slightly condescending look.

“Okay, true,” she concedes. “But I doubt they’re actually here on earth, or that they’d bother coming to Roswell of all places.”

Laughing at that, Michael nods and dryly agrees. “Yeah, this town does suck.”

She chuckles too, watching him with fondness. Every now and then he surprises her, unfolding layers and layers the more they met. Whenever she thought she had him down she didn’t completely, and it was exhilarating even for someone who wanted to hang onto the known like her. Despite it all, she knows she’ll always be safe with him.

Maybe even her Papi does too because despite the tough fatherly speech he gives Michael that day, indeed wielding a kitchen spatula similar to Rosa’s prediction, he still ends it with a gruff, “I hear you’re smart, at least. You make Liz study”

“Thank you, sir,” Michael says, looking over at Liz with an expression detailing how she’d be teased for it later. She gives her father a disapproving glare. “Papi!”

“Que?” he asks her, looking a little sly. “You think just because I will hurt him if he hurts you I’m not allowed to embarrass you in front of him? Let me be a good father, mija.”

Michael laughs and Liz sighs, but he spends weekends with them more often than not after.  He even learns to run the grill one weekend when she’s out shopping with her mom, something that surprises Liz when she returns. Papi is overseeing everything, half hovering, and Liz can’t help but ask, “You let a white boy in the kitchen? Who are you?”

She can hear Michael scoff and she grins, as does her Papi who replies, “El es  _ your _ ‘white boy’. I am making him useful. Don’t you want a  _ novio _ who cooks for you?”

“As long as you at least pay him,” she says, sighing.

“You don’t have to pay me,” Michael tells her father in response.

The older man gestures at Michael to her, as if to say it was the teen’s choice, but Liz gave her father a look, and said, “Pay him.”

It’s not the kind of intertwining she had expected in a high school boyfriend. The logical part of her, the kind that Rosa constantly tried to call on, wanted her to stop before it went any further. If her family liked Michael it would hurt so much more when they broke up, wouldn’t it? All she could imagine was an even bigger hole in her life.

  
  


* * *

When he finally unravels his situation that she had started to guess at, she wants to cry. Later at night when she’s alone in bed, she does. There’s nothing quite as heartbreaking as a homeless teenager, one who’s been hiding himself from the town all the way on the airstrip. 

The Ortecho family had been fighting-- namely Rosa and their parents-- and things had been said that were too heavy for Liz to handle alone. For once she had been the one to leave the house, angry and upset at her mother and Rosa, and it had taken her storming off all the way to the center of town before she broke down and called Michael. He came to sit with her on the park bench, listened to her rant about how terrified she was that her mom was going to leave between all the drinking and Rosa, and when she told him she couldn’t handle returning home yet he nodded and told her to get in his truck.

So he drives and she listens to the radio he’s turned on for her, wanting nothing but for them to be parked so she can cuddle against him and pretend her life is normal. They keep driving, though, until finally he parks near the car shop he works at on weekends and she gives him a questioning look. “Why here?”

“This is home,” he says, quiet and tense. Something about his body language says he’s worried about her reaction, ready to defend himself to judgment, but she’s shocked quiet for more than a few minutes and he’s the one to speak first. “Not to take away from your current problems.”

“Michael, why didn’t you tell me?” she asks finally, voice uneven. Her hand finds his, squeezing tightly as if it would help stop her tears. “You said you had foster parents you hated.”

“Oh I do,” he answers dryly. “They hate me too. So here I am while they collect the check in return for not reporting me as a runaway minor.”

Naive in hindsight, she says, “Nothing can be worse than living alone like this, can it? I mean how do you afford gas or--,”

“It’s better this way, Liz.” It’s the closest he’s sounded to angry with her, and that stops her from arguing further. “I know your mom drinks too much and leaves a lot but you both still love each other, alright? You don’t know what it’s like to be some meth addict’s foster kid they like to hit around when they’re sober and unable to score.”

“I’m so s--,”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” he interrupts, and she stops but still gives him a look. “I don’t need your pity or sympathy.

Staring at him, she says, “I know you don’t. And I’d never  _ pity _ you, however sympathy? That’s a product of love, okay? It’s not always some empty gesture.”

“Love?” he asks all but immediately.

She stills. Had she really slipped like that? She was just a teenage girl, she tells herself, what did she know about love? Look how it had hurt Rosa and her Papi and mother, after all. But she knows the answer, and she can’t stop herself as she nods. Clearing her throat, she nods, and then says, “Bad timing, I know.”

“Nah,” he says roughly, moving to put her face in his hands. “Never bad timing to hear something like that.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


At the end of their senior year, everything changes in ways things shouldn't for a teenager.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> michael

_ Tell her _ , his mind urges in the same repetitive merry-go-round cycle.  _ Tell her _ . 

There are days when he comes close. Days when they’re relaxing in the bed of the trailer Sanders had given to him, her head on his chest. The way that she listens to his heartbeat so closely, finding pleasure in the sound, makes him want to scream the truth that she’s not listening to a human heart. That she’s not really in love with him because she doesn’t even know who he is, not in ways so large they matter.

But he’s in love with her.

Just the idea of her abandoning him spikes his already chaotic electromagnetic fields. It’s so much easier to focus on the science of how she affects him than the emotions. They’re too similar that way.

When he comes the closest to spilling, they’re so close to crossing the line of physical into sexual. She’s beautiful when she’s studying, gorgeous when she’s rolling her eyes at him, and she’s goddamn the best thing he’s ever seen when she’s sitting on top of his hips, shirt off and bra nearly undone.

“I have to tell you something about me,” he says, hating himself as he softly pushes her back.

She quirks her head, looking amused. “Now?”

“Uh, yes.” He falters. Her big brown eyes are staring at him, curious turning into worry as he’s taking too long to reply. What would she do? How much would she hate him? Would she see him the same, or be terrified and fascinated like everyone that touches this town? In a fearful cop out, he changes his answer. “I’m bisexual.”

“Oh,” she says, her eyebrows raising. With only one silent second, she adds, “Thank you for telling me?”

Uncomfortable and trying not to drown in the million different emotions suffocating him, he escapes into a hurried and fumbling rant. “I’m uh, sorry I didn’t say anything sooner, it’s just the Catholicism freaked me out. I mean you’re friends with Alex still, but it’s not like you’re actually dating him.”

Liz’s expression falls into her loving sympathy face, and she puts a hand on his face. “I would  _ never _ judge you for who you are, Michael.”

Not able to speak for more than a moment, throat too tight and tears too threatening, he nods. Maybe not for his sexuality, he thinks, but for being an entire different species?

“And,” Liz continues, changing into that more firm comfort she likes to give. “Just because I’m Catholic doesn’t mean I throw away science. There are so many species of animals that are equally bisexual or change gender. Humans are animals too.”

_ What about aliens _ , he wants to say, but he shakes his head at her shift in demeanor with a smile. “You’re really going to turn me coming out into a biology lecture, huh?”

“ _ Oh my god _ ,” she rushes to say, eyes wide with the look of someone who only just realized their foot was in their mouth. “Of course not, I’m sorry I--,”

“It’s okay,” he chuckles, pulling her shoulder closer so he can kiss her. “I know you.”

With a relieved sigh, Liz gives a sheepish nod, and instead of sex they spend almost all the night tangled into each other talking about how he had realized he was bisexual in the first place. Liz bursts out laughing, giving him an embarrassed look. “Mr. Guyliner Brendon Urie? That punk look got you?”

“Who would you pick then?” he shoots back in challenge, a little uncomfortable but still glad she was relaxed and laughing, calming his previous anxiety.

“Selena,” she replies without missing a beat. “Queen of Tejano music.”

"You're just saying that cause I can't make fun of you." 

She swats at his arm. "I am not! Rosa and I have had this conversation before."

"Why would she play hypothetical when she's in love with Deluca?" 

Liz gives him an odd look, confused by what she seems to think is a weird joke. "What? No, they're just friends.”

Michael laughs, unable to help it. “I get she's your sister, Liz, but I promise I'd know better.”

With a huff, the beautiful girl sits up further and the soft moment has turned into one of their usual challenges to each other. The competition to be right they so desperately shared was one of the things he loved most about her. “Prove it!”

He sits up too, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he quickly answers, “Too much plaid, combat boots, artist, drama & angst, Alanis Morrisette--,” he laughs when Liz rolls her eyes. "And the way she stares at Deluca the second she isn’t looking.”

Thoughtful now, Liz is quiet for a minute, apparently thinking it over. For a minute she seems to be ready to tell him he’s wrong again, but then she adopts a hesitant look on her face. “Do you think that's why she's so…?”

“No idea. Maybe a little.” He replies, faltering at the look on Liz’s face, the one that he knows is only going to lead him into trouble. “Not my place to confront her, Liz.” 

She gives him a pleading look. “But you two get along. You're the only guy she'll tolerate for more than five seconds that she's not messing around with!”

Michael scoffs. “Alex Manes.”

“Alex doesn't want to talk about his sexuality either.” Liz says, a dark look troubling her face before she wipes it away to give Michael her biggest puppy dog eyes. “Please? For me?”

Even before her begging concludes, because he does put up more fight, he knows he’ll do whatever she wants. Anything to make him feel less goddamn guilty that he still hasn’t told her exactly who she’s dating.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


“Ortecho!” Michael calls out as Rosa leaves the diner that weekend, the same time that he’s about to go in. “Liz wants me to talk to you.”

Immediately the elder girl’s guard flies up and she makes a face at him. Despite that, she still stops, which he has to admit he wasn’t sure she would. “Ew, why?”

Not wanting to beat around the bush because neither of their personalities would allow it, Michael flat out tells her. “She's worried your whole angst vibe is because you're gay and that she can't talk to you about it.”

If he thought her guard up was before, he had been sorely mistaken. Now she’s turned inside herself as only anger comes out and she steps up to him. “Because I'm  _ what _ ? You talking shit about me?” 

“Of course not,” he says firmly, even though she’s not impressed. “We were having a conversation and it came up.”

Rosa scoffs. “It ‘ _ came up _ ’? Are you serious? Liz is the last person--,”

Interrupting her, he says, “It came up because I told her I was bisexual. Nothing personal.”

That does throw Rosa off to the point that she stills, eyebrows raised in a moment of reluctant surprise. “You're bi?” 

Michael nods, and while the anger seems to be taken out of her sails she still has her arms folded and a stubborn look on her face. “Oh. Well I'm still not talking to my little sister's boyfriend, I don't need another person to tattle on me.”

He shrugs his shoulder, getting ready to leave. “That's what I tried to tell her you'd say. It's none of my business.”

“Damn straight,” she huffs in agreement, but he thinks she’s almost relaxing and he can’t help but take the opportunity to joke, “Bad choice of words.”

Rosa rolls her eyes but hides a smile that he still catches. She’s still folding her arms when she narrows her eyes and asks him, “Why do you think I'm gay anyway?”

Michael shrugs again. “Gaydar. Maria Deluca.”

He receives another glare. “I don't have feelings for her.”

“Then why'd you glare and not gag?” he can’t help but argue. It’s in his nature.

She scoffs at him. “Go away  _ pendejo _ .”

“Yeah, no problem,” he replies, and this time she leaves for her junker car and he goes into the diner to see Liz and help out with a grill line shift.

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


There’s the tell-tell sound of gravel shuffling and the rumbling that he can feel so easily when he’s resting when someone drives their car up to his trailer late in the night. Part of him wants to be on the defensive just in case, but when he opens his door he’s shocked to see that of all people it’s Rosa Ortecho.

Her eyeliner is a little wider than usual, suggesting that she might have been crying earlier, but all she does is roll her window down and turn the car off. “Hey. I'm gonna park here tonight. Promise i won't talk to you.”

Walking over to her despite the increasing defenses she’s putting up as he does so, he reaches the car and asks, “What's going on?” 

She tilts her chin up and gives a glare. “The promise goes both ways. Don't talk to me either.”

Michael scoffs. “Doesn't work like that, Ortecho.”

The girl groans loudly, stubborn. “I just needed to get away and this is the last place anyone would look, okay?”

“Who are you running from?”

Finally she cracks. “Everyone! Every stupid fucking person in Roswell who looks at me and only sees lost potential or a way to score!”

“Feeling alone in this shithole is a specialty of mine,” he tells her with a sigh. He leans over and opens her car door, and even though she glares at him she still gets out and they sit on top of her car like they’re almost friends.

Rosa looks at the stars for a second before glaring ahead and pulling her knees closer to her chest. “Did you know your parents?”

It’s a sore subject that he gives a rough tone to. “No.”

She gives him a quick glance, but then goes on unbothered. “Honestly, I don't know mine either sometimes.” Adding an all too bitter scoff, she adds, “You'd be surprised what secrets people hide.”

He can’t argue that.

Even though he wants to deflect, to make it solely about her problems, her vulnerability touches him tonight. He gives some leeway, trying not to get emotional himself. “Some secrets protect people.”

Quick to anger in a way that shows Michael this is exactly why Rosa ran, she explodes, half yelling, “No, they're just an excuse to be fake! To be a coward and not deal with shitty things you've done. I'm so tired of the bullshit. Everyone just lies and pretends and the people who confront that end up alone.”

“No arguments here.” He sighs, looking up at the stars.

“What secrets are you hiding, Michael Guerin?” Rosa asks. It’s not as vicious, but the threatening tone still increases as she continues, “Because if you hurt my sister I'll kill you.”

Michael scoffs. “Secrets? That would require people to not have made every rumor in the book about me.”

There’s a slight nod Rosa gives at that, an understanding that only the few outcasts of this town could give. Before she could go further and he could be made to feel any more guilty he waved a hand at the trailer. “Take the bed in there if you're staying the night. I'm used to sleeping in the truck.”

Rosa huffed. “I'm fine out here.”

“It's the least I can do for texting Liz that you're safe here.”

“Ugh,  _ pendejo _ .”

She got off the hood of the car and headed off as he ignored the twist in his stomach when he teased, “Hey, didn't you say you hate secrets?”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Of course it’s a disaster. He always expected that, to the point that more than a few times he was tempted to leave them out of it to begin with. But even though he resented them so often throughout the years they were more or less family. So they deserved to know, at least. But they didn’t deserve to have a say.

He’s invited Max and Isobel over to say just that, and as Max is drinking a beer Michael had stole off Sanders and Isobel is lounging in one of the camping chairs like she’s queen of the place, he drops the bomb. “I'm telling Liz.and before you say anything, I'm not here to ask your permission. I'm telling her.”

They had all known this was coming, and all too quickly things launch. Max is on his feet, Isobel is giving her best dramatic expression, and then Max scoffs. “This isn't just your secret!” 

“It will be,” Michael responds firmly. “Just me. I trust her.” Which might be a stretch, but whether or not he trusted her he still  _ owed _ her.

Isobel is the next to huff, eyebrows raised in a rather haughty way. “Oh, you trust her? Like this sort of information won't bring out unpredictable behavior?”

“Yeah, you don't know her, actually.” Michael snaps. God how he regretted telling these two, like they had any idea what it was like to have had no one in the world before finally finding  _ one _ .

“Just look at her sister!” Isobel cattily replies, and before Michael can go after her for that Max snaps at his twin. “Isobel!” Max seems to gather himself, though still sounding firm and as though he was the almighty authority figure they had to listen to as he said, “Look Michael, I get you love her but that does not mean that--”

“That what? I shouldn't be honest before things go any deeper?”

Isobel rolls her eyes. “This is just a high school romance!”

“Wow, okay.” Michael glares. “Clearly your powers are weakening if you think  _ that’s _ what this is.” 

Before Max interrupts, Isobel narrows her eyes before looking away and shaking her head, somewhat sad. “You can't tell her because you think she’ll stay with you if you’re some interesting science project.”

“That's not what this is!” He yells, and she looks a little more shaken as Max steps forward in his usual pacifist protective way. “I’m tired of  _ hiding _ from her.” 

“You don't think we know how that feels?” Max asks, “We haven't even told our  _ parents _ .”

“Parents?” Michael scoffs. “No, I don’t fucking know how that feels like  _ Evans,  _ but that was your decision. This is mine. Get off my property.”

“Michael--” Isobel tries, this time softer after the mention of family--

“Go.”

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Of course it was one thing to say he was going to tell Liz Ortecho the truth about aliens, and another all entirely to do it. Angry as he was, perhaps Isobel was right, maybe he was just using it as a way to try and get her to stay. Or fuck, maybe he was trying to push her away like he did everyone else. Maybe Rosa was right, and all the people who told the truth truly did end up alone.

While it wouldn’t take any genius to notice the change in his behavior, Liz finally confronts him while they’re in the exact place her sister had gotten to him, sitting around the campfire at night. He had said little all evening, too wrapped up in the arguments he’d had lately, and finally Liz shoved his arm as she sat in his lap.

“ _ Hey _ . You there? I feel like I’m sitting here by myself.”

He gave an uncomfortable smile and adjusted in the seat, sitting a little higher. “Yeah. I um… I have to show you something.”

Her brow furrowed in bemusement. “Okay?”

The night is still, the stars free and wild in the sky out here away from the town, and he thinks about how everything is about to change. Doubling down, wishing to find the courage as his stomach lurches, he holds his breath and levitates the set of dishes and silverware they had used to eat a small meal just an hour ago.

“Michael, what is this?” she asks quickly, jumping up off him but not even glancing his way as her voice heightens. “What are you doing?”

Bluntly, because he doesn’t know how else to admit it, he says, “I'm an alien, Liz.”

Now her brown eyes go to him, looking almost angry and ready to argue, but then they’re drawn right back to the items as he puts them down. “You're… no. I'm going crazy.”

“No, you're not,” he says frantically, seeing how close she is to bolting. “Science evolves and changes, right? That's what we always talk about?”

Liz stares at him, but there isn’t love in her eyes this time. “I have to go. I have to um… I need to go.”

“I know you don't owe me anything but please don't run Liz,” he begs. “I can explain everything…”

Her hands fly up. “No. Not yet. Goodbye.”

  
  


* * *

The next week is a kind of hell he hadn't experienced before. Sure, he'd been through some horrible situations, but none were so tenuous as being in love with someone who hadn't told you whether or not they had decided to hate you. 

When she meets him at the trailer after he's missed the whole week of school, it's her that speaks first.

“I didn't tell anyone,” she says roughly. Defensively. So armored up that she almost reminds him more of Rosa than herself. “I know that's what I would want to know first if I were you.”

“I don't care about that,” he says, and he’s surprised that it’s true. “I care about you. Us.” 

“I do too.” She says, but it’s not soft and kind. It’s angry and hurt and comes out in a rant as she continues, “I don't want to. It feels completely irrational and dangerous but for some reason despite the lie I trust you.” Her tears fall now, and he thinks this has to be one of the worst moments he’s endured on this earth. “I hate that I trust you.”

Unable to help himself he moves forward, as close to her as he can be without pulling her into an embrace and never letting go. “I'll prove to you that it isn't a mistake, Liz. I promise.” She lets his hesitant, shaking hand wipe her tears while she bites her lip.

And then, in true Liz Ortecho fashion, she immediately moves past the emotions now released.

“I'm ready to know more.” She says firmly with resolve that he had to commend given what had to feel like insanity. “Are you from the original crash? Do you know what universe you left? What biological differences do you have?”

“Yes to the first, but it's complicated,” he replied. “No idea what universe, and no NASA info correlates. As for the last… I'm telekinetic and for whatever reason acetone helps my powers and the nausea that comes with using them.”

Scrunching her face, she questions, “Nail polish remover?”

He can’t help but smile at the expression. “Yep. I was confused too.”

If she wants to know how on earth he came across that realization, she saves it, which is lucky. Instead she goes back to the bigger questions. “The crash-- the crash was  _ decades _ ago. Are you secretly 70?”

“Liz, we’ve grown up together you’ve seen me age normally,” he reminds her, but she ignores the answer and so he explains further. “I was stuck in time from the crash until 8 years ago when I was found and landed in foster care.”

“What… what else? Where's your research? You have to have done something.”

Michael hesitates now. She knows him all too well and worse, is all too stubborn. “Yeah, but Liz--,” 

“I need to see it.” She demands. “I need to know I can trust you, Michael. Factually.”

“Okay,” he acquiesces with a sigh, for so many reasons. One, he knows Liz enough to know that the facts aren’t what will make her trust him. Two, he’ll do anything to keep the one person he’s had for himself. He urges her to step back, which she does, and then he moves the trailer and undoes the bunker door within fifteen minutes. It leaves him nauseated and wanting for some acetone, but Liz’s scrutinous stare at him and his abilities take control. He waves toward the ladder. “After you.”

If she’s worried he’s going to kill her, she sure doesn’t show off her survival skills as she easily climbs down without a second thought. When they’re both down and he turns the light on, she immediately grabs the towel covering his ship piece-- because she had a knack for getting to the core of him-- and gasps.

“How-- what-- what material is this?” she says, the awe clear in her voice. “It feels alive…”

“I haven't named it,” he tells her, watching and waiting to see when it’ll be too much and she’ll run away. “Just know it came from the ship.”

“Where are the other parts?” she wonders aloud, but before he can answer her she’s spotted what he had been working on his entire life. The schematics. “You're fixing it. That’s amazing, Michael, the work-- wait, if this has to be secret--,” she looks up now, her face falling. “You’re fixing it so you can leave.”

“I was. Was,” he repeats, hoping she understands because her expression is welling up with hurt again. “But I have to fix it. I have to.”

“Why did you tell me you didn't care about this world?” she asks, her voice still now. “You didn’t give a damn about anything here.”

“That was a year ago, Liz! I’ve changed. You know that.” Michael tells her. “You changed everything.”

She looks up at him, and for a minute he thinks she might kiss him, but she doesn’t. He gives out another searching explanation. “I need more information no matter what planet I’m on, Liz. You would too.”

“I would,” she agrees. “And I do. I want to help.”

“This isn't some regular biological experiment,” he says, shaking his head. It was one thing to come clean, an entirely other to--

“I know that, Michael. But I want to be a part of this. I want to see what advancements are possible for external progress while keeping things secret,” Liz says. “This could change my world for the better.” Pausing, her big brown eyes soften and she adds, “Our world.”

“Our world,” he sighs in resignation, but when she kisses him in response, it rings true.


End file.
